Nine Years
by Flashback 1701
Summary: It's been nearly nine years since Elizabeta and Gilbert have seen each other. Unfortunately times change and life marches on regardless of love or friendship. Onesided PruHun. Threeshot. AU.
1. Elizabeta's Side

This story was inspired by a something I read in Spanish class.

Lately I've been writing/drawing Prussia and Hungary nonstop. However, I'm not a true PruHun shipper. I support one-sided when Prussia loves her, but she doesn't feel the same about him. I do love their friendship.

* * *

The doorbell rang, dragging Elizabeta from her thoughts of her husband. Rising from her favorite armchair, she set aside her novel and got to her feet. The visitor rang again, impatiently.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

When she wrenched the door open, she found a familiar man on her doorstep, the same smirk on his lips that he'd worn the last time she'd seen him. It had been so long, almost nine years, since she'd witnessed that infuriating sneer.

"Liz." Her name carried a sort of relief with it, as though he'd been holding it in his chest all that time. He still had the same mischievous glint in his scarlet eyes that she remembered from her childhood.

"Gilbert."

The albino stood in her doorway before spreading his arms in nervous anticipation. "You gonna greet your most awesome friend?"

She embraced him reflexively. His arms were thicker and stronger as they fastened themselves around her shoulders, her head fitting neatly into the crook of his neck. He even smelled the same – that faint mixture of cologne, sweat, and the outdoors. Suddenly he was laughing, chest rumbling against hers.

"You know, you used to be taller than me." He sighed finally, looking down at her with painful familiarity. "Kept telling me that my 'big head' was too heavy for my body to grow right."

She lowered her face, hiding from him the smile on her twitching lips. His voice was deeper now. It was still husky, but fuller than before.

Releasing her, he stepped back, flexing his shoulders to hide his uncertainty. "So, how've you been?"

"Not bad." Elizabeta heard herself say. "I'm married now."

A shadow flickered across his pale face, followed by a teasing pout. "You didn't invite _me_?"

Gilbert still sounded the same when he whined, drawing out the syllables in long, irritating notes. He sounded like an out-of-tune violin.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert. I would've, but I lost track-"

He tapped her shoulder with his fist, pulling a punch he might not have in the past. "Don't worry about it. I probably wouldn't've made it, anyway."

"Oh?" An arched eyebrow quirked. "And what's so important that you would miss your best friend's wedding?"

"The service." He shrugged, hands jammed awkwardly into his pockets in an uncharacteristic show of discomfort. "I went to a military school and got shipped out to a base in Germany for four years. Just got done last year."

"In that case, welcome back." Her smile slipped as she shivered, rubbing her bare arms as the cool, autumn air breezed into the mudroom. "Hey, you wanna come in?"

His eyes said yes, but his lips said no. Stubbornly shaking his head, the young man backed away. "Nah, I was just in the area and thought I'd look you up."

"No, Gilbert, it's fine. I'll make some coffee and we can catch up-"

"I've got a train to catch." He announced, consulting his watch. "I got a job offer from the middle of nowhere I've gotta respond to."

Her chest tightened, but she grinned anyway. "Good luck, then. I hope it turns out alright."

"Oh, it will." He cackled. His laugh was still the same, that annoying, throaty chuckle that seemed to hiss from his lips. "Give me a couple weeks and those brats'll be damn near awesome."

"What brats?"

His face split into a familiar, self-satisfied smirk, the same one Elizabeta had seen everyday from kindergarten to twelfth grade. "My students."

Turning on his heel, he offered his once-best friend one last wave of farewell. She could see him sneering as he climbed into his car, but as he pulled out of the driveway, she was certain that there were tears on his cheeks.

* * *

The next part is Prussia's point of view, though still written in third person. I must say that it's much more in sightful than this version.


	2. Gilbert's Side

Gilbert's side of the story. Warning for hopeless, unrequited love on his part, and not so much from Elizabeta.

* * *

Heart throbbing in his ears, Gilbert toed the edge of the cliff. Nine years. It had been nine years since he'd seen her last, practically a lifetime. Taking a deep breath, he threw himself over the edge. He rang the doorbell. One long heartbeat later, he rang it again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

The muffled voice was familiar and sent shivers rattling down his spine and into his toes. Gilbert just had enough time to fix a smirk onto his lips before the door was yanked open by a vaguely irritated-looking young woman.

"Liz."

Elizabeta's bright, green eyes widened dramatically as they locked with his. Her plump lips gaping before joining into a sort of disbelieving smile. "Gilbert."

Hesitating only momentarily, he offered himself to her, arms wide. "You gonna greet your most awesome friend?"

When she stepped into the embrace, Gilbert felt himself exhale in relief. He held her tightly, feeling as though nothing had changed, no time had passed. Burying his nose in her sweet-smelling locks, he discovered that she still used the same shampoo – she still smelled of artificial coconut. He chuckled.

"You know, you used to be taller than me."

Elizabeta looked up at him in surprise. Scarlet eyes traced a snub nose that freckled in the sun, a pair of round, liquid eyes positioned beneath slender, arching brows. He wondered if she'd always been this beautiful, or if he'd simply forgotten.

Adopting tone dripping with mock injury, he continued. "Kept telling me that my 'big head' was too heavy for my body to grow right."

She ducked her head, trying to hide a grin that Gilbert could feel. With one final squeeze, he released her and stretched his arms back nervously.

There were so many things he wanted to ask her, the possibilities buzzed endlessly through his head. Finally, he simply asked, "So, how've you been?"

"Not bad." She paused, fiddling with her hair just as she had as a child. "I'm married now."

As though on cue, her ring winked up at him, serving as hard evidence of her statement. Gilbert felt as though he'd been shot in the chest, lungs seizing up as his life's blood pooled around his feet. Summoning up his pride, he forced his curiously numb lips into a pout.

"You didn't invite _me_?" He only half teased as the words squeezed from his throat. The sparkle in his eye had fled, but Elizabeta didn't seem to notice as she smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert. I would've, but I lost track-"

He punched her playfully in the shoulder, silently begging her to stop talking. "Don't worry about it. I probably wouldn't've made it anyway."

"Oh?" For a split second, Gilbert could almost pretend to see the hurt in her expression. "And what's so important that you would miss your best friend's wedding?"

He wanted to lie, to say that he, too, had gotten married, and that his beautiful, trophy wife was so much better than some violent tomboy with a thing for gay porn. He wanted to tell her that he'd been with dozens of women over the years, and he'd forgotten about her until just recently. He wanted to tell her that she hadn't been on his mind everyday for the last eight years and God knows how many months. But somewhere deep within the wreckage of his heart, he knew that he wanted to tell her the truth.

"The service." He said finally, his pocketed hands searching for something he knew didn't exist, burrowing restlessly into his jeans. "I went to a military school and got shipped out to a base in Germany for four years. Just got done last year."

"In that case, welcome back." Elizabeta shivered suddenly, drawing her slender arms into her chest. After a moment of thought, she asked, "Hey, you wanna come in?"

_Yes,_ the voice in the back of his head was screaming over and over even as he shook his head no. Taking a step backwards, he shrugged. "Nah, I was just in the area and thought I'd look you up."

For a moment, her gaze pleaded with him. "No, Gilbert, it's fine. I'll make some coffee and we can catch up-"

"I've got a train to catch." The words fell heavily from his lips as he made a show of checking his watch. "I got a job offer from the middle of nowhere I've gotta respond to."

Her smile was the one she gave when she was happy for others, but not for herself. It was the one she'd worn when her mother remarried, the one she'd worn when Gilbert began to spend more time with his guy friends, the one she'd worn on graduation day the last time he'd seen her. The one that had broken his heart. "Good luck, then. I hope it turns out alright."

"Oh, it will." He made himself laugh, for her and for himself. "Give me a couple weeks and those brats'll be damn near awesome."

"What brats?" Her voice rang with curiosity and carefully disguised sorrow.

The grin he gave her felt stale and unwanted, but he hoped it would give them closure. "My students."

Waving as he walked down the drive, he fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked his car. He smirked at her one more time before starting the vehicle and backing slowly from the house. As he did, the tears he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry trickled down his cheeks. The last thing he saw before he left her street forever was Elizabeta, face buried in her hands as her shoulders heaved with unheard sobs.

* * *

And now, because that was depressing as hell, for an omake to lighten the tone!


	3. Omake

Written to fill in the blanks and brighten the overall mood.

In this universe, Roderich and Gilbert don't know of each other.

* * *

"Elizabeta," Roderich strode into the room, glasses low on his nose as he skimmed through the stack of envelopes in his hands. "Do you know someone in North Dakota?"

"I don't think so." She replied, barely looking up from her crossword. "Why?"

Her husband frowned, tapping his foot impatiently. "It's addressed from a 'Gilbert B-"

The envelope was out of his hands and torn open within moments, revealing the photograph inside. The children stood in front of the white board bearing the words, "Merry Christmas from Mr. B's Awesome Class!" wearing smiles full of laughter. In the middle of the group knelt a similarly-grinning man with a shock of unruly, white hair and playful, crimson eyes, his arms slung over the shoulders of his two closest students as he beamed at the camera. Flipping it over in her hands, Elizabeta found a short note scrawled across the back.

_Liz-_

_Sorry I didn't get to talk to you this fall when I dropped by to visit. I took a job as a sixth grade teacher, and I'm living in a little town in North Dakota. Actually, I'll be shocked as hell if you get this card since the snow's piled up higher that my house. I'm starting to wonder if this is what living in Russia would be like._

_Anyway, happy holidays and all that. Tell you husband that he's a lucky guy, and that if he ever tries to hurt you, I'll come back down there and kick his ass. Then again, I'm sure you'd probably do that on your own. Merry Christmas, Liz._

_- Gilbert Beilschmidt_

_PS: I'm coming down to stay with you guys for spring break. I'm fucking sick of how cold it is here._

_

* * *

_

And that's how one ought to book vacations.

I hope you enjoyed this little three-shot type thing. It's the first time I've written something quite like this. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!


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